Operation Anti-Antioxidants
by lost.long.ago
Summary: When Henry makes a holiday wish, Emma and Regina will have to swallow their differences to make it happen.


_Fanfiction from me has been fragmented and few in coming. So here, take one that is seasonably late._

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Henry looked to the grandfather clock that stood against the study's west wall. He was barely able make out the bronze hands in the dim light. Almost 9:00. Almost his bedtime. And yet his moms were still cooped up in Regina's home office, going over papers that really should've fallen to the unofficially elected Mayor Snow. But apparently government in Fairytale Land required far less red tape and far more royal decree. The only person who seemed to care about keeping the bureaucracy functioning was, oddly enough, paperwork's arch-rival herself: Emma.

Yet, they'd been at it for an hour. It wouldn't be long now before one of them would say something wrong and offend the other. And then the meeting would abruptly be adjourned and he'd be sent to up to bed.

Henry stared at the page before him. He needed to get this thing done, and quickly. He hefted his pen.

_And I just wanted to sorta see what it was like._

_Anyway, mom's not big on junk food, but I could try to sneak you some Oreos or something. My grandma bakes a lot. That's it! Operation Anti-Antioxidants. I'll ask Grandma to -_

"What 'cha writing?"

Henry flipped the page over and slammed it down. "C'mon, Ma! You can't just sneak up on me like that!"

"Ooh, is it a love note?" Emma's eyes glinted impishly in the firelight. "Does my little boy have a crush? Is it for Grace?"

Red flooded the boy's cheeks. "Ewh, Ma! Grace is a friend."

"Ms. Swan, not only are you still here after I very expressly told you to see yourself out, but you're tormenting my son as well?" Regina entered the living room, heels clicking coolly on the hardwood floors of her own home.

"No. Well, yes to the first part, but no to the rest."

Henry scooted away, taking his papers with him. "Yes to all of it. I was just finishing my letter and she came over and started bugging me."

"Give me a break, kid. It's not every day you catch your kid writing to his-"

"Santa," the eleven-year-old interrupted firmly.

"-girlfr… You still believe in Santa?" Emma eyed her son in wonder. The eleven-year-old genius child hadn't figured it out yet?

"Eh-hem." Regina looked at the blonde harshly.

"I mean, believe? Of course you do. Because, you know… someone has to bring the presents." Emma rubbed at the back of her neck. "It's not like they just appear there, you know? Evergreens don't, just, poop out gifts. Though, it would be great if they did, really convenient, but that would be ridiculous. They don't. So… Santa. Yep…"

Henry rolled his eyes. "Mom, you don't have to pretend to believe in him."

"Yes, please do stop with this nonsense about 'pooping trees' and whatnot." Regina poured herself a glass of cider from the decanter on the side cabinet.

Emma ignored the snark. "But, then… why are you writing to him if you don't believe?"

The boy smiled as he folded the leaf of stationary neatly. Precisely. The movement was filled with everything that was his brunette mother. "I didn't say I don't believe. I just don't expect you to." He slid the letter into a creamy, obviously expensive envelope. "It took months just to get you to figure out that the curse was real. But honestly, Ma? Your mom is Snow White. You fought a dragon and climbed a giant bean stalk. There's a convent of fairy god-mothers just a few blocks away." He shrugged. "Is a guy who likes to give kids presents really that far-fetched?"

Emma's mouth hung for a moment before snapping shut into a light, pensive frown.

Regina chuckled. "Well, now that you've explained things to the village idiot, is your letter finished, honey? It's past the time for bed, and Ms. Swan has already over stayed her welcome."

Henry nodded and walked to the fireplace, envelope in hand. "I just throw it in, right? Like in the movies?"

Regina smiled and his youthful uncertainty. "Yes."

The boy looked at the flames licking across logs already well charred. With a careful flick of his wrist, the paper landed on top. Orange tendrils hungrily latched on to it. "Well, that's that. Night moms!" Hugging each of the women – really, he was so quick about it that they could hardly be called hugs – he fled to the stairwell, just shy of running and clearly restraining himself from taking the stairs two at a time.

The silence left in his wake was deafening.

"Santa's real?"

Emma searched Regina's blank gaze. Well, most would've called it blank.

"Ha, I knew it." She lunged for the cast-iron poker, snatching it from the rack beside the fireplace. Yet before she could get any further, the smoking paper flew forth from the flames and landed neatly in the older woman's outstretch hand. Regina shook it once, and the black, curling edges restored themselves to crisp elegance. Setting aside her tumbler, she proceeded to open it.

The blonde huffed, put the fire-poker back, and moved to look over the brunette's shoulder.

Regina slid away. "Is there are reason you feel entitled to peek over my shoulder, Miss Swan?"

"Really?" Emma rolled her eyes. "You're not the only one who wants a leg up on what to buy the kid, Regina. He literally has everything a normal kid could ask for. You can have first dibs, but with his imagination, I'm sure there's enough stuff written down there for _both_ of us to get him something good."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Whatever. Just read it aloud?"

"Because you can't handle the words yourself? Why am I not surprised…" The older woman unfolded the letter. Squinting, lips turned down just barely in concentration, she moved closer to the light of the fire.

"Yeah, well, clearly somebody here has a little trouble reading. Is that somebody getting old?"

"For someone who seemed so set on knowing the contents of this letter in my possession, you surely are not doing yourself many favors." Regina looked at the blonde pointedly. Emma grumbled and waved her onward.

"Dear Santa," the brunette began. "I'm sorry I haven't really taken this whole letter writing thing seriously with you these past five years. I could make some excuses, like how I've been busy trying to break a curse and bring back happy-endings, but I don't think that's why I gave up on you.

"If a person can believe in magic and fairytales, you aren't really all that weird. And I think that's really why I stopped. Even though I worked super hard, to break the curse and to show everyone that my mom was the Evil Queen, I think some piece of me didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to believe that there was anything wrong with our life, because even though I didn't act like it for a while, I do love my mom."

Emma stared at the silhouette of the other woman. This was awkward. Warm and lovely, but awkward. She wanted to tell the brunette that she could stop reading aloud, that she could enjoy the private moment, but it had already begun to unfold and to interrupt it would be even worse.

"Really, I love both of them," Regina continued, a roughness in her voice that only a careful ear would notice. "And that's why I'm not asking for a sword or an Xbox this year, (though, if you've got either lying around, I wouldn't mind…). I hope you read this early, because all I want for Christmas is …"

Regina blanched.

The grandfather clock ticked onward in silence, its bronze pendulum marking the seconds. But while she certainly tried, Emma wasn't known for her vast reservoir of patience. "What? What does he want?" The letter was thrust towards her. She gingerly took it, scanning the page for where Regina had left off. "Because all I want for Christmas is for my two most important people to get along. Not forever. It's okay if you're not a miracle worker or anything. But maybe just a week or two? To get my family through the holidays? I've never had a Christmas, or all the stuff leading up to it, with a big-ish, happy family before. And I just sorta wanted to see what it was like.

"Anyway, mom's not big on junk food, but I could try to…" The letter trailed off into logistics of Christmas eve cookies and milk and 'thank you's', but the bomb had already been dropped.

Regina stared in to fire, nursing the tumbler that had somehow found its way back into her grasp.

At last Emma took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her blonde curls. "I don't suppose you could just get him a sword and I buy him an Xbox, huh." She laughed weakly, but Regina didn't respond. "So what do we wanna do about this?"

"What do we do?" Regina mimicked. She snatched the sheet of childish-but-neat writing from the blonde and threw it back to the flames. "That much is clear." Her eyes met Emma's; the sheriff thought she saw unshed tears, but the only thing certain was the steel in that gaze. "The wish has been made. Despite how much it may pain me to say it…

"Miss Swan, for the next two weeks, you and I are going to be the best of friends."

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_Apologies for being too lazy... um, busy, to edit. But, perhaps a few more chapters? Reviews and whatnot are lovely._


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